


Ghost Writer: Silver and Salt

by Azaelynn



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, Gen, How Do I Tag, Original Characters - Freeform, Twins, paranormal elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-22 22:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15592464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azaelynn/pseuds/Azaelynn
Summary: An oddly accurate bestselling novel prompts a Hunter of the supernatural - monsters, ghouls and ghosts - to seek out the mysterious author as the book becomes an unofficial 'How-To' guide within the widespread Hunter community.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've had rattling around inside my head, and is my first piece of original work, so I have no idea what I'm doing! I would love some feedback on things like general readability, constructive criticism, the usual.

 

Feb 2018 - Jacksonville, Florida

 

Looking in from the outside, there weren't any signs of disorder or chaos or anything to signal a disturbance. The house, a quaint thing looking like a cozy cottage in a picturesque neighborhood of similar looking family friendly homes, complete with equally picturesque picket fences and flower gardens surrounded by perfectly manicured hedges, differed only by the 'For Sale' sign on the pristine front lawn.

Inside the quaint two-story house was a different story, as what was once an immaculate and tastefully classic interior lay in ruins with bits of broken furniture and shattered glass strewn across now-scuffed hardwood floors that would undoubtedly have to be replaced or refinished. There were a few scorch marks on the walls, alongside a kitchen knife or two that were imbedded into the drywall, and the wooden banister circling the stairs leading to the second floor was equally in ruins, in the quiet sounds that often accompanied the end of a battle.

Two men, bloodied, bruised and worn, worked quickly, moving around each other easily with some familiarity as they packed up the tools of their particular trade from amongst the debris scattered around them. There wasn't too much they could do about the house but the damage was relatively minimal and repairable, at least for their line of work. Repairing the damage wasn't really their concern, and both of them would be long gone.

The realtor who'd hired them for this pesky poltergeist job probably had a contractor on hand for when they finished the job.

At least the house was still standing; they hadn't needed to resort to arson and torch the place.

"Have you read this?" One of the two men, a burly man with cropped greying hair and a couple of weeks' worth of stubble, pulled a paperback from his duffle, the spine of the book already showing signs of wear despite being rather new as seen by the still glossy cover. The other man, younger than his companion, frowned at him with narrowed eyes, looking mildly incredulous as he caught the title of the little book.

"Uh, no, Clint, can't say that I have; our line of work doesn't exactly leave much room for readin'. 'Sides, what fantasy junk could compare to our type of lives?"

It was very much a valid question. It did nothing to deter the older man, however, as he pushed the book into the other's hands. The book itself seemed like a fairly standard mystery or horror novel; dark background, shadowed figures in faded moonlight and muted tones, the title plastered across the top with a slightly gothic font.

"Here, take my copy. Read it, and you'll see why."

"What the hell kinda title is 'Ghost Writer' anyway?"

And cue the epic eye roll and put-upon expression. Really, his friend was far too old for such theatrics; it was like dealing with a teenager.

"Just read it. Trust me."

"Fine," The younger man rolled his eyes in exasperation but dutifully stuffed the book into his own duffle bag, tucking it between the mojo bags he used and his knives. "I gotta run. Thanks for the help with these poltergeists; one I can handle, but triplets? Not so much. Call me if I can return the favor."

"Yeah, no problem, man. See you around."

 

*****

 

March 2018 - North of Dallas, Texas

 

"What happens now?" The young woman stared at the burning wreckage of what was once her home, where she had been haunted by a rather violent ghost with an obsession with mirrors. A tall young man in his late twenties stood next to her, hands stuffed into his pockets, his height and bulk dwarfing her tiny frame, quietly contemplative as he watched the fire as it began to slow and die. Both were covered in marks borne of ash and smoke and fire.

"'Sup to you, to be honest," He turned his head just enough to look at her sidelong, watching as a breeze played with the strands of her mousy brown hair, taking in her pale skin and the dark smudges borne from sleepless nights beneath her glassy shell-shocked eyes. "Most people that we meet, that are saved go on to live their lives, all peaceful like. Which is perfectly fine an' normal, and frankly, I encourage that whenever possible. Some don't get involved, not really, but you can't unsee this shit, so if and when somethin' else happens, they call someone and the problem gets sorted out. I'll be leavin' my number with you. Others get low-key involved, usually stickin' to their local area, or becoming a contact for information or resources. And then there are those very few that go into this hardcore, travellin' all over, and searching out the problems; like what I do."

"So someone saved you?" She turned to look at him, taking in the soot on his face and clothes and in his hair, turning the already ashy blond hair darker. He shrugged off her inquiry; it wasn't like his personal history was all that important in the face of the young woman's recent loss. He did wish he could've saved her husband...

This was just another example of why hunting ghosts and monsters was so dangerous; even the easy stuff like old-fashioned ghost hauntings were unpredictable, chaotic and often life-threatening, or just plain old life-ending. This ghost had somehow manipulated fire from an old flip lighter to set the house on fire and its manipulation over mirrors had caused the inferno to get quickly out of control, and while he'd gotten the woman out, her husband paid the ultimate price, a sacrificial tribute of seared flesh and animalistic screams.

He still wasn't exactly sure how it had all happened, how it was possible (it shouldn't have been possible), but the mechanics behind hauntings were often unusual and unexplained, and just as unique as there were people in the world.

"Sort of. Someone saved my dad when I was jus' little, and I ended up being raised into this... lifestyle, I guess you could call it. Hang on; I got somethin' that might help you out." He reached down to dig around in his duffle bag; the damn thing carried just about everything he needed from the mystical to the practical. He found the book he'd been given a couple weeks back and handed it to the woman.

"A book? 'Ghost Writer'? I've seen this in the bestsellers list in the paper..." She raised inquisitive brown eyes to meet his own shrewd look.

"Yeah, I've never met the author, but what they did is actually a pretty solid idea. It reads like a story, but the information inside is actually legit. It should give you an idea of what's involved in this life; and 'member: It's more than ok if you wanna go back to livin' a normal life. You get that chance to do so." He dropped her gaze to stare off in the distance; he could hear the sirens of the incoming emergency vehicles, fire trucks and cop cruisers and the like, and there was just the hint of flashing red and blue lights dancing in the distance. It was almost time for him to go.

"Ok, thank you. For everything. I can't thank you enough."

"Just keep on livin'. You're tough, you'll get through this."

"Thank you."

 

*****

 

April 2018 - Denver, Colorado

 

The atmosphere was comfortable if a little subdued considering there was plenty of alcohol and beer flowing fairly free from behind the bar and every seat was occupied with a body. The pub, built in traditional Irish fashion from some immigrant hunters almost a century ago, was decently large, and was almost always busy, if not full. It helped that there was a series of rooms for rent above the business, allowing the pub to serve as a kind of way station for those in need of a place to sleep.

Almost every patron kept to themselves for the most part, as their lifestyle was solitary in nature, but there were a few tables that held small groups or pairs of people drinking quietly amongst themselves, keeping obnoxious chatter to a minimum. The pub specifically catered to others of their lifestyle, hunters from all walks of life and many of them knew each other in one way or another.

Nestled comfortably in the middle of the room at a small wooden table with a couple of beer bottles between them sat two men, one in his mid to late twenties with ash-blond hair cropped close and with a broad build comfortably clad in worn dark jeans and an equally dark t-shirt that's seen better days, and a worn leather jacket was hanging on the back of his wooden chair. The other man was at least a decade older, smaller in build and more wiry in mass than his companion, with dark brown hair just long enough to be pulled into a short, messy tail, and a scraggly beard that was beginning to show more grey than brown. He was dressed in much the same as the rest of the patrons of the pub; worn jeans and flannel shirts and thick work boots.

The two men had known each other for going on ten years, sometimes working jobs together, and sometimes passing along information and sometimes just hanging out much like friends, catching up over a beer or three.

Sometimes, they only saw each other when one of them needed a favor.

"Do you know anyone who can get in contact with these people?" The young man asked as he fidgeted with his beer, scratching at the label with his fingernail. The man sitting across from him looked down to the tabletop, where a worn paperback book was nudged his way.

"Wha-? Oh, you mean that horror author? I know the book's been making the rounds with some of the others. Um hmm, dunno, I'd have to look into it. Why, you wanna... talk to 'im or something?" He pulled the book closer to read the little blurb on the inside of the cover about the author. There was nothing that stood out; name could be a pseudonym as was common these days, but he took note of the publishing house. It would be a good starting point, at the very least.

"Dunno yet. Think so, though." The younger man shrugged casually, playing with his beer bottle before signalling the bartender for another drink.

"Why d'ya wanna do that for?" They smiled in thanks as the cute waitress wit h the blonde hair dropped a couple more bottles on the table between them.

"I wanna know how much of this story is actually real. I mean, sure, the hunting info's legit, but I wanna know more about the actual story behind it. If any of that's really real then the guy survived a fuckin' werewolf; you know as well as I do that only the most experienced of us have survived a wolf attack. Also, somethin's been bugging me about the wolf attack anyway; 'snot typical behavior for your average werewolf." He looked away with a fierce scowl, unsure himself as to exactly why he wanted to seek out the author of this fictional horror book. He hadn't lied though; something was nagging at him about the contents of the book, like the pieces of a puzzle that didn't quite match up.

His friend stared at him for a while, considering.

"...Okay."

He looked up, his mossy grey eyes wide and hopeful. He hadn't expected this.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll find out what I can, and let you know."

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

"Sure, but you're buying me another round!"

He laughed and signalled the bartender again.

 

*****

 

May 2018 - Boise, Idaho

 

"Hello?" He answered his cell after the first jarring ring, cupping the phone to his ear with his shoulder to keep his hands free as he loaded his gear into the back his beat up truck, moving a little slow in consideration of his tender shoulder; popping in your own dislocated shoulder was always a bitch. This last job had really been something else, ghouls were always a bitch to handle, time consuming and incredibly dangerous, and he was fucking tired after almost a week straight with little to no sleep; all he wanted was to drive long enough to get away before taking a fucking nap, a long one. At this point, he desperately needed the rest.

_"Hey, it's me. Got an address for you."_

"No shit? Thanks, man. Anything I should know?" He perked up a little, slamming the tailgate of his Chevy shut; he hadn't been expecting any results from his author search for at least a couple more weeks. The cut on his forehead was really starting to itch; he'd need to properly mend it later, hopefully it wouldn't need stitches.

_"Well, for one thing, there's two of them. They both got a couple of pseudonyms for the different shit they write, and their writing's pretty varied. Anyway, they're brother and sister, uh twins, I think. From what I can infer, they're both civilians to our lifestyle."_

That was a little unexpected. And mildly concerning.

"Really? 'Cause the book read like somethin' from a veteran hunter, or at least someone who's been doin' this for more than a few years." Keys in the ignition fired up the engine and then he was on his way, almost coasting down the empty road. He was paying more attention to the phone in his hand.

_"Nah, these kids are young; in their mid-twenties, like you, and orphans to boot. Got an article about that; they were just little when their bat-shit mother tried to off them, right after killing their shit-for-nothing daddy."_

Of course they're orphans, with a tragic back-story, too.

"And now they're dealing with monsters of another kind. Well, that kinda points as to how they survived the fuckin' werewolf." If anything, he was already impressed. A shit childhood, especially one that involved violent homicide at a young age, usually went one of two ways; you got bitter, or you got better. And to him, it sounded like these twins went with the lesser used route and got better. He figured they'd have their quirks and issues and insecurities, especially since a lot of that kind of information was a matter of public record, and therefore, an easy find if one went looking long and hard enough.

_"I guess. So what's your end goal here?"_

That was a good question. He had maybe the beginning of an idea but ultimately, he figured he'd wing it and see what happened with the meet-and-greet first.

"Just... talk to 'em, I guess. For now, anyway; I haven't really thought that far yet. They may just toss me out on my ass."

_"All right, fair enough. I'll let you go. I'll text you that address. Good luck."_

"Thanks."

_"Hey, before you go; you should see if they'll be doin' more writin'. Books like these, with solid info hiding in the story, would be a pretty good way of getting new hunters set up properly, could save a lot of lives from getting killed from rookie mistakes."_

It would be a lie to say the thought hadn't yet crossed his mind, more than once, actually.

"I was thinkin' about that. Talk to ya later."

Now he really needed that nap; had to be on his 'A' game, after all.

A few days (or a week, whichever came first) to rest up and heal wouldn't be amiss either, so as to not look like he came out the wrong end of a fight like some kind of demented giant bruise; good first impressions and all that rot.

Yep, that was his new game plan.

 

*****

 

June 2018 - South of Tacoma, Washington

 

The house was nothing special; there was nothing out of the ordinary and there was nothing to indicate that the inhabitants were anything but normal. It was a small two-storied building, older and done in brick with dark wood accents, but that was the aesthetic of the neighborhood; all brick and mortar housing with plenty of maples and willow trees for a classy feel. It was supposed to be warm and welcoming, he was sure.

The few windows he could see in the front of the house were shuttered, and in the daylight, he wasn't able to tell if anyone was home, but the Honda in the drive told him otherwise. Still, he hesitated, doubt in his half-assed plan trying to creep in.

Fuck it, the worst they could do was turn him away; time to stop stalling. He got out of his truck, leaving it parked on the street and ambled up the front walk, hesitating only slightly before he knocked on the heavy front door.

Was that a bundle of Devil's Shoestring tied to the top of the frame?

Huh, it was.

Something to ask about, anyway.

A few long moments passed before the door opened, and he was greeted with the sight of a young woman, mid-twenties and dressed comfortably in jeans, a racer back tank top and a flannel button up, her feet bare. She was shorter than him by at least six or eight inches and very pretty with long dark hair tied up in a high tail with some framing her angular face and blue eyes like the ocean on a sunny day. There were two beauty marks on the right side, one below her eye and the other right above the corner of her small mouth. He almost missed the two small silver hoops in her eyebrow. She didn't wear makeup, or not much of it, but again, she _was_ pretty.

Even with the healing yellowed blemish of a fading black eye.

Something to dig into at a later date, though; now was not the time.

For now, it was something to ignore.

"Hello? Can I help you?"

"If you're who I'm lookin' for, then maybe I can help you. Are you E. E. Flint?" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, and yeah, he probably could've framed that better, especially with his own set of healing scrapes and bruises.

"You're here about the book; why?"

"Honestly, I wanna know how much of it is real." He shrugged and ran a hand through his ash blond hair, trying to be casual and keep his posture relaxed. He didn't want to scare her off, especially with the evidence of recent violence. "'Cause I think you've already guessed that I've had some... similar experiences."

She kept him there, standing in the front of her house while she assessed him critically with a small frown. That little frown crease between her eyes shouldn't be that cute. Finally, she opened the door fully and gestured for him to follow her inside.

"...Come in."

The house on the inside was really nice, with an open plan layout with light cedar hardwood floors and walls bright and cheery in a pale blue. There was plenty of soft lighting and the little foyer space opened up into a high ceilinged living room with a small set of stairs leading to where he presumed the bedrooms were hidden on the second floor. There was shelving everywhere, and absolutely packed with books of all kinds and tasteful little decorations and plants. Actually, all the decorations were nice, with paintings scattered on the walls in bright bursts of colors. In one corner of the open room, there were two very comfortable looking stuffed chairs, and in another corner was a long couch sitting opposite a flat screen fitted on the wall, with a matching loveseat off to the side.

"I'll get us some coffee, or maybe this conversation calls for something stronger?" She walked off towards the back of the house where he could see a well stocked and lived in kitchen and... Was that a conservatory? This house was really nice, very cozy and lived in and very much a home. He was actually a little jealous.

Only a little jealous, though.

"Whatever you feel like." He settled down in the loveseat, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees, and while the young woman bustled about the kitchen, the hunter looked over to observe the other occupant of the open living room, currently ensconced on the couch, his leg in a cast that had clearly seen better days and looked like it was ready to come off soon.

Had to be the brother, and he could definitely see the twin resemblance in the sibling; same color of hair, although the brother had his hair significantly shorter than his sister, but messy, with strands hanging in his eyes. The eyes were the same, identical even with the same color and markings, although the brother's eyes were matched with a downturned frown currently set in a fierce scowl, regarding him with unfiltered suspicion and scrutiny.

"Right. Um, take a seat, and I'll be there in a minute. Anyway, yeah, I'm part of E. E. Flint; my name's Elizabeth, my brother's Edward. He's the asshole not saying anything on the couch." The young woman, Elizabeth, called out from where the kitchen was, and her brother's head swivelled in her direction in plain irritation.

"Hey, nerd! I was trying the play up the intimidating older brother!"

"Doesn't work when I've covered your cast in pink flowers, jerk!" She sassed back, clearly used to her brother's antics. "And you're only older by two minutes!"

It was actually pretty funny and mildly surreal, because Edward mimicked his sister as she bitched about their 'age difference'. The hunter briefly wondered if it was like that with all twins; he wouldn't know, seeing as he never had any brothers or sisters.

"My God, you are so bitchy... anyway, you heard Liz; take a seat... which you already have. I'm Ed, and who might you be and why are you here?" Ed, as he obviously preferred, turned serious again, his eyes taking a keen glint.

"Name's Asher Troy and I'm what you'd call... a Hunter, of sorts." He shrugged and hunched his shoulders a bit, trying to be as disarming as possible. With his height and build, it was easy to come across as intimidating. "Your book's been makin' the rounds with the rest of us, and I was hopin' to get the full story. Your information's pretty good, too good to jus' be makin' it up, to be honest."

There was brief moment as both twins froze in shock, looking equally flummoxed. Asher wondered if these two were always so easy to read, or if he'd just caught them off guard.

"Well, shit. Guess I was kinda hoping for that to be a fluke or something, but... it makes sense that there's more weird shit than what happened to us." Ed looked a little stunned at the popularity of their book before his expression turned contemplative as he processed the rest of Asher's words. Elizabeth came back carrying three large mismatched and well-used mugs that were steaming, a young basset hound following at her heels, even as she passed one mug to her brother and handing one over to him.

Oh, that coffee smelled divine, and Asher couldn't wait to try it.

Yup, just as good as he thought. He let out a small noise of appreciation, with a small smile of gratitude in Elizabeth's direction. She returned the smile, albeit a little shyly as she took a seat in one of the cozy looking armchairs.

"What do you get out of this? Out of our story? That's the part I don't really understand." She asked after taking a sip of her own coffee, and Asher let his gaze drop to the mug in his hands, idly watching the heat rise like wispy smoke.

"Look, I've done this for a long time; practically my entire life. All I've ever wanted to do was help people, and I've already used your book to do so, but I think there's more to it on your end." His voice was quiet but earnest; his mind was working ceaselessly as his random thoughts over the last month or so began to form into a cohesive line of thinking. "And... I've an idea, if you're willin'; I want you to write more books."

Both twins just stared at him, faces blank and eyes wide. Disbelief and caution crossed Elizabeth's face with a quick downturn of her mouth before she looked to her brother. Asher had a feeling that a lot passed between the twins in that single look.

"... You're serious?"

He nodded once; he needed to convince them of this. This had to work.

"As a heart attack."

"Like... an instruction manual or something?" Ed asked, simply for clarification; he was getting the idea behind his proposal, but Asher couldn't tell how he felt about it, he was a lot harder to read than his sister.

"Yup."

The two shared another long look, but this time there was an air of inquiry on Elizabeth's side and Ed shrugged in response to whatever silent question she had.

_It's up to you._

Indecision replaced disbelief and her ocean blue eyes flashed back to him and Asher felt like there was a judgment being passed. He met her gaze head on, hoping that they wouldn't just toss his ass out of their house.

"...Okay, then. You'll get the full story. Might as well make yourself comfortable."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you guys feel about art? I've had to draw out the characters so far to help with visualisation, and I'd like to share.

 

_Nine months previous..._

 

September 2017

 

"So what's the project this week?" Ed leaned over her shoulder, one hand braced at the nape of her neck as he squinted briefly at the computer screen, the contents of which was a blank Word document, a dozen or so internet tabs of various bits of research, and her media player. Elizabeth glanced up at him briefly before turning to glare at the screen, arms crossed at her chest. She leaned forward to prop herself up on her desk and pulled up her email to show him what had prompted her vexation; an email from one of her publishers.

"Hmm? Oh, I've had another request for a new romance novel; I don't know why, I was never good at it." She cradled her chin in one hand and sighed heavily. She personally hated writing romance, but she'd tried it on a lark, just to see if she could, and (un)fortunately, it had been one of her more successful novels.

"Your style of romance is relatable without it being a damn Rom-Com, and there is tons of weird-ass erotica out there that passes for an actual love story; you can write that without delving into shit like dinosaur porn for the ratings." Ed laughed at her plight, not the least bit sympathetic. He'd commented before that her one romance novel had been pretty tasteful, which was a feat since he avoided reading romance at all costs.

Of course, as her brother, he always read what she wrote, if only to help her away from a bad idea or mistake. Or to tease her later. All part of the sibling privileges package.

"... You may have a point there." She pouted, because it was so fucking true; she routinely read the lists of bad writing so as to avoid making those same mistakes.

Surprisingly enough, the dinosaur porn was among some the tamer stuff out there; she'd seen a self-published gay erotica story... never mind, all dinosaur porn was weird.

Although that one rather explicit porn story involving sentient laundry detergent pods could be classed as a surrealist social experiment. Still weird, though.

"Of course I do." Ed stepped away from her desk, and Elizabeth turned in her chair to watch him as he moved throughout the house. He was wearing comfortable jeans and already had his worn leather jacket on, and there was already a small suitcase by the front door. "Anyway, I've got that metalworks seminar in Portland, so I was just checking in before I head out."

"Oh yeah, you're doing that 'How-To' book, aren't you?" While she dabbled through a bunch of different genres, Ed was more of a technical author, and he was good at it, too, with a fairly long list of monographs behind his name. His fictional thriller serial was still the most popular of all the combined books either of them had written, though.

"Yep. Anyway, I'll call you when I get there. You gonna be alright without me to bounce ideas off?" He asked with a cheeky grin, hefting a stuffed duffel bag over his shoulder. Elizabeth laughed and reached down beside her where basset hound puppy slept slumped over against her leg, petting the sleeping dog between those adorable floppy ears.

"You're kidding, right? Boomer's a much better soundboard than you are!" Her teasing grin was unrepentant, and widened at her brother's unimpressed pout.

"Ha. Funny. You're such a nerd." He rolled his eyes dramatically, but he couldn't keep the smirk off his face even as Elizabeth giggled at his antics. "Talk to you later, dweeb!"

Elizabeth turned back to the screen of her desktop as her brother walked out the front door, humor fading a bit as she stared at the blank document. She had no idea what to write.

Getting started was always the hardest part of the process for her.

With a disgusted groan, she closed the document half an hour later. Looking at the clock, she decided that it was still a little early for dinner, but she wasn't sure if there was anything in the kitchen, and a trip into town might help her with figuring out a new romance novel.

She woke up the sleeping dog at her desk, and Elizabeth was actually impressed with the fierceness of the dirty look leveled her way by the sleepy pup, but he acquiesced to the leash she secured to his collar.

It was starting to get cold, even for late September, so she grabbed her wool coat, buttoning it up snugly before leaving the house with lease and pup in hand. Ed's car was already gone, as expected, so she climbed into her little Miata, Boomer excitedly hanging out the window as she drove the ten minutes it took to get the busier part of town.

Lakewood wasn't a big city, it only had a population of about 20,000 people, but it was gorgeous and quaint and just a little wild in places and to her, the atmosphere of the town was perfect. There were trees everywhere, maples and pines and oak, and a river ran through the forested park near the house, and while there weren't really any visible mountains, it wasn't that far of a drive if she ever did feel the inclination for camping. It was just enough to feel like 'home' without actually being back in Canada.

If she was honest with herself, Elizabeth loved this place, smiling to herself as she parked and allowed Boomer to roam around as far as the leash would allow the little monster, and she'd been grateful when Ed had moved in with her. She owned the house, the down payment a gift from her foster parents, but there had been more than enough reasons why she didn't want to live alone. Ed had picked up on that and offered to stay with her and she leapt at the opportunity. Shortly after moving in, Ed had surprised her with the puppy trotting along excitedly beside her, and it allowed her to feel better when Ed had to leave for his research trips.

He was never gone long, a week or three each time he travelled, but she figured that she would feel uneasy about it for a while yet. The circumstances that led Ed to move in with her had left wounds that were still raw, and even as kids, she had always felt safer when with her older (by two minutes!) brother.

She grabbed dinner from her favorite food truck; seriously, they had the best tacos ever, chatting superficial nonsense with the cooks as she mused internally about the last couple of months. She'd been dating someone, a long term relationship that had turned south in a hurry, and one frantic and scared phone call later, Ed was at her house throwing the bastard out into the street. The twins had lived together since.

Even though her bastard of an ex was still in town and knew where she lived, Elizabeth didn't want to move; she loved that little house and it was hers. Their childhood had been turbulent enough, and until their foster parents, who though she loved them dearly, had overcompensated a little too much, but they'd never really had anything to call their own as kids, and it had been one of her childhood dreams to have her dream house, and this little house in Lakewood was exactly that.

She grinned around her food as Boomer nosed around in the grass, constantly moving from one smell to the next, and she resolved to once again, tell Ed that he was the best brother in the world.

He totally deserved it. And a case of his favorite beer.

"Elizabeth!"

Dread turned the food to ash in her mouth, and her stomach felt like lead at the familiar voice not far behind her. Nope, not now, she could not deal with this right now.

Her car wasn't too far away, and Boomer's leash was still in her hand, so she dumped the rest of her food, she'd cook something else later, and started to quickly walk away, away from him.

A familiar hand just above her elbow stilled her in her tracks and Elizabeth stared at it, numb, even as it tightened around her arm just a fraction more than necessary.

How did he catch up to her so fast, and so quietly?

"You're not leaving already, are you? Without even saying 'hello'?" Hearing the rusted razor edge of warning in his tone had Elizabeth looking up at him, and she saw the shark tooth smile that had once been oh-so-charming (how had she been so blind?), but was now simply terrifying in the scope of their last encounter. She remembered very clearly the snarl he wore as Ed had shoved him out the front door bloodied and bruised, daring him to return again. Ed was a lot bigger than him, though, so he hadn't dared.

Not yet.

"Leave me alone, Zack, let me go." Her voice held firm but only barely, even as she trembled inside her mind, and behind her, Boomer started growling, ineffective as it was for his small size. The man holding her paid no attention to the puppy or her plea, his grip tightening further on her arm, and she knew there was going to be a bruise, his intimidating strength apparent even through her thick coat.

"But it's been so long since we last saw each other; I thought we could catch up, wouldn't that be nice?" Zack pulled her closer to him, closer to his smiling face, charming and friendly and predatory, his eyes dark and dead and dangerous, and she recoiled, trying to twist out of his grip.

"Because we're over, and I don't want to see you again. Let me go."

He opened his mouth -

"Sir, pretty sure the lady doesn't want your company, so I think it's time for you to leave." One of the bigger cooks from the food truck stepped out of the working vehicle, crossing his arms across his wide chest.

An odd expression flashed across Zack's narrow face for just a second, like a beast turned feral before he smiled like an oil slick and released Elizabeth's arm; she wouldn't be at all surprised if the bruise was already turning black.

"All right, have it your way," He started to walk away like nothing was out of the ordinary, unhurried and casual, raising one hand in farewell. "I'll see you around, Elizabeth."

The food truck cook, whose name tag read 'Joey', closed the minimal distance between them and ushered her away, keeping one hand close to the small of her back protectively.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked with a worried frown, and she knew she must look pale and haunted from the unfortunate encounter, and as the adrenaline faded, she started to shake.

She smiled weakly at him, certain that the look didn't reach her eyes, steering them in the direction of her car as they walked, grateful for his company, firm like bedrock to her crumbling nerves. "Yeah, I will be now. Thank you so much for your help."

"It's no problem, my niece got hurt before," He trailed off but Elizabeth didn't need further explanation; people often helped others the most when there was some kind of personal experience.

"I understand. Thank you again."

"Will you be alright?"

She nodded, still feeling shocked and off-center, but the feeling was fading with every moment that passed in the face of his gentle concern. "I will be, once I get home."

The excitement died down after that and Joey walked her to her car and stayed where he was, still as a statue on the sidewalk until she had driven out of his sight and she couldn't see him the rear-view mirror.

Thank God for the kindness of strangers.

Elizabeth had to be hyper vigilant while driving, knuckles turning white as she clenched her fists around the steering wheel as the adrenaline started to fade and she could feel her body start to shiver and quake, the momentary peace gained from Joey's concern slipping away like sand in the wind. In the passenger seat of her little Miata, Boomer whimpered occasionally, practically trying to crawl into her lap in response to her climbing distress, and she cooed at the little basset hound, prying one hand loose to rub at his floppy ears. The fur was soft beneath her fingers and the tension she felt lessened a fraction.

Back at the house, she parked in the garage, not wanting anything to happen to her car in case she had an unexpected visitor later, as Zack was that much of a vindictive asshole. Once inside, she did a perimeter check, double-checking all the locks and latches to all the windows and doors, and she was glad that she'd had a deceptively delicate-looking wrought iron fence installed on the inside of the windows of the conservatory off the kitchen.

Even if the windows were busted out, no one would be getting inside that way.

Only minutes later, Elizabeth was settled into her favorite reading chair in the living room, a thick woolen blanket across her lap, Boomer snuggled into her side and a large steaming cup of hot mint cocoa on the little table next to her chair.

She felt better already.

She hated that she was still so vulnerable after her rather disastrous breakup, especially with Ed gone, but she wasn't going to keep him from working.

Why did that asshole have to show on the first day Ed was gone?

Did Zack know, somehow, that she'd be alone?

Fuck it. It didn't matter, in the end.

Ed called later in the evening for his check in, moaning about the crappy little motel that he was in. She laughed at him, since whenever they travelled; they always stayed in the cheap places. As the call continued, he guessed that she'd had some excitement and pulled the story from her, although Elizabeth reassured him that she was fine now, and no, Ed didn't need to come back, she was a big girl and could take care of herself, even if she missed her big brother.

The call ended shortly after that and it wasn't long before Elizabeth decided that going to bed early was the perfect plan. Everything would be better in the morning.

It wasn't until she was almost asleep that she scowled; she still didn't have a plot for her romance novel.

 

***

 

_Present Day..._

 

The coffee was long gone, and the twins had even given him dinner earlier, which Asher greatly appreciated as home-cooked food was more of a rarity given his job, but now the story tapered off and Elizabeth started collecting the detritus of the evening and Asher leapt to his feet to help her, grabbing drinking glasses and used cutlery and he followed the young woman into the kitchen.

"Now's a good time to stop the evening; its getting pretty late already." She dumped the dirty plates into the sink and Asher followed her example. "Do you have a place to stay for the night?"

He shrugged and shook his head, and a quick glance at the microwave clock told him it was closer to 3 A.M. "Was gonna just crash in my truck, seein' as it's too late to look for a motel."

She turned to face him head on, her expression mild, her long dark hair swaying gently at her back. "If you want, there's a pull-out in the conservatory that pretty comfortable. I'd offer you the guest room, but until Ed gets his cast off next week, he's stuck in there."

"Only if I wouldn't be imposin'."

Her smile was small but it lit up her face, bright and just a little shy. "It's fine, but if you could help haul Ed's ass to bed, I'll go get some clean sheets for you."

"Hey, you calling me fat now?!" Ed's indignant voice behind them carried no heat to it and Elizabeth's shy smile turned into a wicked grin.

"Always, Brother Dear!"

Asher couldn't help but laugh at their antics. It was something he'd never had growing up, being a single child and living on the road with his father as his old man hunted down every creature and monster he could find.

In the end, it was what had killed the old fucker, but that was a tale for another time.

Shaking away the depressing train of thought before it could take root; Asher left Elizabeth puttering around in the kitchen and wandered over to where Ed reclined on the couch. The other man sighed dramatically, no doubt having heard his sister recruit the hunter's aid and held his hand out for Asher to take and help him to his unstable feet.

"So the cast comes off next week? Breaks in the leg don't usually take this long, do they?" Asher asked conversationally, wrapping his arm around Ed's waist to help stabilize the other man. For having such broad shoulders, he was really lean and kind of skinny, but that could easily be attributed to the lack of physical activity and forced bed rest that came with a broken leg.

"It would have been off long before now, but there were some pretty big complications. The damage was bad enough to need surgery to repair it, but the doctors couldn't do anything while my ribs were still busted up, then they had to break open the first cast way too early because of an infection. I think they re-broke my leg at least once; details are kinda fuzzy, but it added another ten weeks to my recovery time. Should only be another three or four days, though." Ed said with a pained grimace as he steered their way around the stairs to a ground floor guest room that was just as pleasantly decorated as the rest of the house. "I was very lucky, plain and simple."

"Yeah, that luck's part of what got me out here. Need anything while I'm here?"

Ed shook his head, shambling his way over to the closet, opening it and pulling some clothes out. "No, I'll be fine from here. Have a good night." Asher took the dismissal for what it was and left the other man alone to his own devices.

Elizabeth had vanished by the time he made his way past the kitchen, presumably upstairs to her own bed, but the pull-out in the conservatory was ready and waiting for him. A glance at the kitchen's interior showed the double sink was still full from their dinner dishes, so before he went to bed, Asher quickly took care of the chore, stacking the washed dishes on the rack to dry overnight. He snuck a look into both the fridge and the small pantry, and satisfied with the plan he was throwing together in his head, he set an early alarm on his cell phone and crawled into bed. Even as just a pull-out, it felt heavenly after spending weeks and weeks of sleeping in his truck.

The conservatory was easily his favorite place in the house, full of growing green things and bursts of colorful flowers, and he thought he recognized some of them, but he could geek out over the plants later. It was pleasantly warm, too, from a greenhouse effect and the glass allowed Asher to look up at the clear night sky, which was always one of the best views he could fall asleep to.

 

*

 

The next morning, Asher woke early, the light from the morning sun peaking in through the plants and glass, and he got up quickly to set his plan from last night in motion. He didn't hear anything from the rest of the house, so the twins must've still been asleep, which suited him just fine, at least for the moment.

Striding into the kitchen, he dug around the cupboards for a couple of pans and while the stovetop was heating up, he pulled a variety of ingredients like eggs, mushrooms, onions and bacon from the fridge and got started on cooking breakfast. He was actually good at cooking, which was a miracle in of itself considering his drifter ways, but he preferred to do so whenever possible as fast food got old real fast.

The twin writers didn't have to show the hospitality they did, feeding him dinner and providing a berth for him, as he was a complete stranger brought into their lives on the wings of a violently harsh and trying period in their lives.

He could have been dangerous (he was, but not to the twins; he liked them already), and with Ed out of commission for the foreseeable future with that busted leg of his, there wasn't a lot that Elizabeth could have done if he'd wanted to do harm to either of them.

Not to say that she wouldn't have fought back; Asher was sure she was bit of a hellcat.

So to repay that unabashed kindness, Asher had no qualms about feeding them, as it was one of the few things he could do and do well, and people seemed liked his food a lot when he was able to get to a stove or behind a barbeque.

He was almost done and was digging plates out when he heard the first signs of life from upstairs and stumbling puppy paws scrambled down the stairs quickly followed by a light tread of bare feet. A light was flicked on the living room, and Asher peeked over his shoulder from the stove as Elizabeth paused in the entryway of the kitchen, sleepily taking in the smells of cooking food before the basset hound scratching at the back door brought her attention back to the whining pup.

She was still dressed in sleep clothes, consisting of grey lounge pants, a dark yellow tank top and a bright red cardigan. Her dark red hair was out of its high tail, hanging down her back in a messy braid instead. Asher figured that with hair as long as hers, he'd also do what was necessary so as not to get strangled while sleeping.

He was happy to note that her black eye was faded even more.

Asher had a dark feeling that ex-boyfriend was going to be a problem in the future.

He poured her a cup of coffee, because Elizabeth looked like she was still asleep and set the steaming mug on the counter closest to the door leading to the backyard, where Boomer was currently frolicking about and doing his little doggy business. He chuckled softly as Elizabeth reached for the coffee on autopilot, but she perked up the moment the strong brew passed her lips and as she took in the display before her, her eyes grew wide in surprise.

"Oh, wow! You're cooking breakfast?"

"Yeah, figured its th' least I could do." Asher smiled warmly as she stared hungrily (oh, the irony) at the bacon sizzling in the pan. "It should be done by the time you get your brother in here."

Elizabeth nodded and took her coffee with her as she left the kitchen for the guest room. He laughed quietly as he heard the twins start to bicker and snark at each other loudly and set about with plating the food for the three of them.

Once the food was set at the kitchen table, he brought the puppy inside and after a moment or two of snooping, he found the puppy kibble and fed the dog, too.

"Wow, nice spread! I'm starving."

"You're always starving, Ed."

"I can't eat like a bird, unlike some bratty little sister I know!"

"Hah! We both know that I win all the eating contests, Brother Dear!"

Asher started laughing at them, watching as the twins continued to snipe at one another all through the meal and while Elizabeth cleaned up, and Asher was banned from helping since he'd done the cooking in the first place.

Not long after that, the three of them were back in the living, with the same seating arrangement as the day before, with fresh coffee distributed around the room.

"So... Where'd we leave off yesterday?"

"Your run-in with your stalker ex."

"...Right. Anyway, that was just the lead up to what happened next, and coincidently, how I met the person that would help us the most..."

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

_Nine months previous..._

 

The next two weeks passed, thankfully, without incident as September faded into October, although Elizabeth had decided that instead of going out shopping, she was having groceries delivered instead, and when she did go out, it was to different places than her usual hangouts leading to a wonderful discovery of an antique bookstore, a new hiking trail in the park and an old hole-in-the-wall, dingy sort of bar. She hadn't been able to check out the bar properly, though it was on her to-do list. Ed had teased her when she told him about the delivery system, accusing her of being a hermit, but she took the ribbing with a grin and an exaggerated eye roll, even if he couldn't see it.

The seminar was amazing, according to Ed, and Elizabeth was happy that he was having fun; he'd always wanted to be an old fashioned blacksmith growing up, with a forge and everything, and while this wasn't nearly the same thing, he was still excited to be learning about the intricacies of metalworking. This was probably going to be one of his better manuals, too.

And he called Elizabeth a nerd... Please!

Tonight she was determined to try and stay in, though, because she still did not have anything written for that damned romance book! Her editor had emailed her that morning, asking for a basic timeline, and Elizabeth knew she could pound out a half-assed novel that would be decent in a week, but it was always the same problem; she had no idea how to start. That Word document was still glaringly, annoyingly blank.

She was staring hopelessly at the damn thing when her brother's specific pop music ringtone rang out throughout the house with its catchy tune, and Elizabeth leapt at the distraction, answering the phone before the music even had a chance to play more than a few bars.

_"Sooo..."_ Ed stretched that first word out, and Elizabeth grimaced briefly at the heavy amusement in his tone. _"Story's not going well, huh?"_

She snorted inelegantly. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, asshole."

_"Haha, I almost forgot that you've the worst writer's block ever! I know you'll get there, though."_

"Sure, once I actually get started." Her eye roll went unseen. "Anyway, how's the seminar?"

_"They've got practical demonstrations with audience participation for the rest of the week; I'm in heaven right now!"_

Elizabeth grinned fondly at her brother's enthusiasm. "Yeah, I bet!"

_"Any plans for tonight?"_

"There's a little bar I wanna check out; it's not too far from here, actually. But only if I can't get anything done for this book, that's the stipulation I'm putting on myself." Tipping her chair back as far as it would go, Elizabeth propped her feet on the edge of her desk, hardly sparing the empty document on her PC any further attention; it clearly wasn't going anywhere. "It looks like precisely the kind of place that Zack would never step foot into, so here's hoping the drinks are good!"

_"Always a good requirement for a bar."_

"And what about you? How's the night life in Portland?" Ed's sudden silence to Elizabeth's question actually surprised her and she leaned forward, dropping her feet back down to the floor. It wasn't like her brother to hesitate. "Ed?"

_"...It might be nothing."_

"Come on, Ed; talk to me."

_"It's been a little weird for just the past couple of days. I dunno, I could be imagining it, but... I feel like I'm being watched? Maybe? Can't even say for sure."_

"What's been weird?"

Ed sighed heavily as he struggled to find the words, another rarity for him. _"Honestly, I don't rightly know. But... the news has been reporting a rise in crime lately, a big spike in activity. Small time petty stuff, like vandalism and shit, but a couple of farms further out of the city have had animals killed, and there was a warning to keep pets inside at night. It just feels... off."_

A feeling of dread wrapped icy fingers around her heart at her brother's words. "And being watched?"

_"...Yeah. The feeling was pretty strong last night. Still, I'm going to be getting some pepper spray or MACE or something."_

Elizabeth smiled at that, though it was shaky. "Not worried about being too paranoid?"

_"Hey, it's not paranoia..."_

"If they're actually out to get you, I know. Stay safe, please?" She cringed at the uncertainty coloring her tone.

_"Of course, Liz."_ His voice sounded overly fond at her concern, but she wouldn't begrudge him the feeling.

"Keep in touch, okay? I'll just worry if you don't."

_"Yeah, I know. I'm going to get some dinner, so I'll let you go. Don't procrastinate too long on that book."_

"... But I hate writing romance!" Elizabeth was glad for the unsubtle topic change to lighter things, and latched onto it. "Why did I agree to write more of it?"

_"Because you're a sucker for punishment. Here's an idea; Romance in a Survival Horror setting. Should give you plenty to work with and it won't be a classic bodice-ripper."_

"And this is why you're my favorite brother." She grinned and dutifully jotted down his suggestion on the legal pad she kept around for the sole purpose of note taking.

_"I'm you're only brother. Have a good night, dweeb."_

She huffed in amusement. "You too, jerk. Stay safe."

After the call, Elizabeth managed to spend the next couple of hours hours plotting out a basic outline for her book, because if she focused on the Survival Horror aspect of it, she could work with that, as some of her best work was in the Horror genre, though she typically wrote short stories for anthologies, at least in regards to that genre.

She wrote the odd mystery short story, also for anthologies, but Ed was better at writing thrillers and mysteries, so she left those genres alone for the most part. She preferred writing urban fantasy, and had several trilogies to her name along with a handful of science fiction novellas, but since there was so much of it currently flooding the market; it didn't sell nearly as well as her one romance novel had.

By 11 P.M., Elizabeth had a good start on her outline, and she did want to fully check out that bar she'd mentioned to Ed, so she packed up, shut down her computer, and was out the door minutes later. She kept her outfit pretty basic for the night, comfortable in her jeans and shrugging on a thick black zippered hooded jacket with her wallet and keys stashed in one of the inside pockets.

The bar was within easy walking distance, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes away, and it was a good night for a walk despite the chill of a fast approaching winter, clear and brisk, although even in the dark of the night, Elizabeth could see the reflection of building storm clouds in the mountains cut in sharp relief by the pale light of the partially full moon. There'd be the first snow fall in a few days, and Elizabeth wanted her brother safe at home before then.

She always worried when he travelled, but she was especially worried now, in light of his own fears and suspicions. Ed didn't take to paranoia easily, but he had a keenly developed sense of cautious common sense, so hopefully he'd take precautions and keep himself safe. He wasn't an idiot, far from it; Ed knew how to take care of himself.

It didn't seem like the bar, simply called Eddy's Bar, was at all busy, but that wasn't so unusual being a Thursday evening. There were only a couple of beat up trucks and a few Harleys in the tiny parking lot, and a older guy smoking a little ways from the entrance of the bar itself like a sentinel in the gloom of the night, barely visible but for the red hot cherry of his lit cigarette. Elizabeth pushed open the door, and barely getting a glance thrown her way by the patrons, which was awesome in her book, and she found an open seat at the bar, ordering a beer when the bartender, a rugged man with tattoos up his arms and a no-nonsense stern look to him, asked what she wanted.

There's weren't many people here, maybe a dozen or so scattered around the handful of sturdy wooden tables, and the atmosphere was welcoming enough, and classic rock played softly from an old jukebox along the far wall, where a casual game of pool was being played by a couple of bikers. She got her beer from the bartender, thanking him with a smile as he passed the bottle over, and it was ice cold in her hand.

Perfect.

This place was low-key enough that it was awesome just for the ability to relax and destress, and judging from the appearance of the other patrons, if anyone caused trouble, there'd eagerly be a fight. Her asshole of an ex wasn't one for out and out confrontation, instead preferring more subtle methods of persuasion and manipulation, deftly hidden in the background of any given scenario, so clearly picking a fight with any of these guys would be a monumentally bad idea and in general poor taste.

Ed would love this place, simply for the old school ambience.

She'd have to bring him here when he got back.

As she slowly drank her beer, Elizabeth people watched. For her, it was a great way to build characterization, and every decent author always an eye out for sources to write better. Some authors never turned that part of their brains off, much in the way of a good psychiatrist or a detective or an artist, and she was one of them, constantly observing her environment and the people within it.

The three burly men with thick, full beards sitting at the table in the corner were probably (most likely) the owners of the bikes outside, if the riding leathers they wore said anything at all. The rest were working men, all dressed in heavy jeans and flannel over shirts and heavy duty boots, probably truckers or construction workers and the odd redneck or two.

There was only one other person seated at the bar, an older man in his late fifties if Elizabeth had to guess, wrapped in a worn brown leather coat that looked older than she was. His cropped dark hair was mostly grey under the faded baseball hat, matching the greying scruff along the strong jaw, and while there was nothing that stood out to her, Elizabeth found that her gaze kept coming back to him.

As she finished her second beer, Elizabeth decided that he looked lonely enough, and she wanted some company to take her mind off Ed, so she signalled for another drink and moved down the bar to take a seat beside the old man. He flinched at her arrival, startled and wide eyed, as she slid the new bottle over to him. She got herself another drink and waited patiently.

She was in no rush, to be honest.

It took less time than she'd thought it would, but eventually, the old man broke the fairly comfortable silence, giving her a keen once over with a narrowed gaze.

"So I take it you want something?" His voice was gruff, raspy like he didn't speak often.

"Just some friendly company, if you don't mind." She replied, flashing him a small grin. "I'll also leave you be if you want me to just fuck on off."

He barked a laugh, sharp and short, at her blunt words. "Heh, fair point. I guess I should be asking why the need for 'friendly company', then?"

"Mostly I need a decent distraction from worrying."

"Worrying about what?" There was a hint of curiosity in his tone.

"Stuff that shouldn't. Had a run in with a stalker ex boyfriend which has totally made me more paranoid and twitchy than usual and my brother feels like he's being watched, but we don't really know that much yet and he'll be back home soon enough that it shouldn't matter anyway." Elizabeth said casually, taking a long pull from the bottle in her hand. On the barstool beside her, the old man blinked at her nonplussed, mouth twitching down into a small frown.

"I wouldn't say that you shouldn't worry about either of those issues, young lady. Both are serious things in their own right." He idly fiddled with the beer bought for him, spinning the bottle between his fingers, still watching with a calm gaze on Elizabeth, his eyes sharp and keen despite the unaffected tone of his words.

She scowled, lips pulled into a pout for just a moment. "Yeah, but there's not exactly a lot I can do about either of them."

"No, maybe not." The older man conceded her point, and shrugged nonchalantly. "Do you trust your brother?"

"Of course I do." She was only mildly affronted at the question, taking a wild guess that he surely was going somewhere with this and that he had a point to make.

"Can he take care of himself?"

"There's no one tougher, though I might be a little biased." They both grinned at the other, and Elizabeth took a moment to finish her beer, signaling the bartender for some water instead. No point in going overboard and pacing is always key.

"Heh. Then you know he'll be back. Worry, as family should, but don't make yourself sick over it."

"...Thanks." Elizabeth's grin softened. "That does make me feel better."

The old man made a vague gesture with one hand, dismissing the sentimentality. "It's only natural to worry about our loved ones, I understand that much. Now, this ex boyfriend... is he going to be a problem for you?"

She looked down at her glass, watching the condensation drip down the sides. "I don't know. Maybe? But maybe not. I wasn't exactly expecting to see him and I definitely don't want to find myself anywhere alone with him, but I am taking some precautions."

"He hurt you?"

Elizabeth smiled in the face of his concern, though she suspected it looked a little strained. "Not nearly as much as he could have. I dumped his ass and got out at the first sign of overt violence. I mean, yeah, he'd been acting off for months at that point, and he got more controlling over time, but I didn't recognize the signs."

"Not many do."

She nodded in agreement, knowing exactly how true it was. She'd done her research (always fastidious and meticulous) into violent relationships after Zack had been forcibly evicted from her home. "Very true. I don't even know now what we were arguing about, but he snapped and threw a pot at me - mind you, it was full of boiling water because I was busy making dinner at the time, and it brought up a shitload of very unpleasant things for me and I bolted. Locked myself in the bathroom and called my brother. The ex had just broken through the door and grabbed me when my brother got there and proceeded to kick the shit out of him before throwing him out of the house. Warned him off, too."

"And you went to the police, right?"

"Yup. Filed a report for the domestic abuse, but otherwise didn't take it further because they'd have to take Ed in for assault. I think it would have been played down in my brother's case, but it wasn't worth the risk and at least the police have a record."

She heaved a gusty sigh and pulled out her wallet, intent on paying her tab. "The bastard left me alone for almost six months and now he's popped out of the woodwork and I don't know if it's a one-off or if he's gonna go the obsessed stalker route that you always hear horror stories about, the ones involving hidden sub-basements and shackles and chains bolted to the soundproofed walls where no one can hear you."

"...You have an active imagination."

That surprised a laugh out of her and she grinned widely at her companion. "Yeah, so I've been told. Anyway, I should be going, so thank you for indulging me tonight."

"Oh, not at all; it was a pleasure. Name's James Grant." He reached over with his hand outstretched and Elizabeth took it, momentarily shocked as his hand was freezing, absolutely ice cold and with an aftershock like static electricity.

"Elizabeth Flint. You here often? I'd like to swing by another time."

"I'm here most nights. Have yourself a good night and stay safe, you hear?"

"That I can do. See you later, James."

 

*****

 

"So, how's Portland?"

_"I'm really starting to freak the fuck out, Liz, I'm dead serious."_ Ed's voice was tight as a razor wire, clipped over the phone in his agitation, and Elizabeth could feel the lead drop into the pit of her stomach.

"Whoa, slow down. Start from the beginning. What's happened now?"

_"Someone, or something, is definitely following me."_ Her brother breathed out a shaky sigh, the sound crackling like static. _"Couple of us went out to eat after the demo today, and the entire time we were out, I kept getting that feeling, that creepy tingle at the back of the neck, and I swear, I kept seeing something out of the corner of my eye but nothing was ever there when I checked, and I am feeling paranoid as fuck all and this is seriously freaking me out."_

"Do you just wanna come home? Because I am all for that. I'm really worried about you." She got out of her chair to start pacing about the living room, unable to keep still in the wake of her worry. It sounded like Ed was getting in over his head.

_"Nope, not happening. Seminar's almost over, and I'm not sure that whatever this is wouldn't just follow me home, and that last thing I want is for you to get hurt."_ Because Ed was always like that, wanting to protect her in 'big brother' fashion and Elizabeth just barely refrained from growling, though the effort took a few seconds. She knew it was the curse of having older brothers.

Never mind the fact that Ed was only two minutes older.

"Ed..."

_"I'm serious, Lizzie. I'm just gonna play it safe for the rest of the week, maybe keep a baseball bat or something on hand or nearby at all times. Fuck, the only reason I thought I saw anything was 'cuz the moon was so fucking bright."_

"I wish there was something I could do, Ed."

_"...Yeah, I know. But it's safer there, trust me."_

"...So, what else has you so freaked out? You don't get like this just because something's following you, Ed." They had faced much worse than some unconfirmed stalking; they'd had enough of a troubled childhood for that.

_"I've been keeping an eye out on local news, just in case, and there's been some weird shit. There's some kind of, I don't know, hipster farm or hippie commune or whatever pretty close to the city limits and, coincidently, fairly close to the blacksmithing forge this seminar's at, and all their animals - chickens, goats, their one cow - all of them were slaughtered and I guess it looked like something out of a horror movie because the cops were everywhere and news crews with helicopters and... I don't know,"_ Ed's words tapered off but Elizabeth could still hear him moving about, probably pacing his motel room, and she was relieved to hear his breathing even out. _"People seem to think that there's a cougar or maybe even a bear that's going feral and there's warnings posted everywhere, but... that doesn't feel right."_

"...Holy shit, Ed. Maybe you should forget the bat and get a gun or maybe a taser."

_"Maybe."_ He sighed again, sounding tired to her ears. _"Look, try not to worry too much, I'll be home soon, and honestly, I kinda feel like I'm freaking myself out a bit. I'll be home in three days."_

"You better come home, and you better be safe."

_"Yeah, love you too, Sis."_

Elizabeth was back at Eddy's Bar within the hour, downing a shot of tequila next to James as the older man fiddled with the beer she'd ordered for him. He hadn't said a word to her yet, but Elizabeth wasn't concerned; she figured that they'd fall into the routine of last time she was here and that she'd speak when she was ready.

She needed a few minutes to organize the chaos swirling in her head anyway.

She sucked hard on the lime, chasing the liquor with its sour, bitter tang, heaving a heavy sigh as she ordered herself a beer of her own. The tequila shot was just something to chase away the incredible amount of stress she felt after her phone call with Ed.

Tequila wasn't exactly her friend in large quantities, either.

She finished her beer before she even glanced in James' direction, but there he was, waiting patiently to listen whenever she was ready. Elizabeth fully realized that they didn't even really know each other, but there was a sense of calm acceptance, and there were no expectations either.

"So... God, where do I even start?"

"The beginning's usually best, the way I hear it."

Yeah, she definitely appreciated the way James' smart-ass attitude made her smile. His dry sense of humor was one she could definitely appreciate.

"You are such an ass. Hilarity aside, I talked to Ed tonight and he was really freaking out. Definitely being followed, too, and a huge spike in animal violence. There was an incident, lots of gore, lots of reporters, so he says." Elizabeth remembered how her brother had sounded over the phone, panicky like static on the radio and as brittle as ice, and she grimaced, her brow furrowed with her worry.

"How's he know he's being followed?" The question was asked carefully, tone blank and neutral. She didn't think on it for more than a second before stringing her response together.

"Ed says he could kind of see whatever it was, but it was too late at night to identify anything even remotely useful. Could only see what he could because it's been so bright with the full moon coming up." She shook her head in mild frustration, knowing that her third-party information was lacking in any kind of specific detail.

"It's time for the full moon again?" James' neutral tone sharpened and she wondered why that was.

Couldn't think of anything specific, maybe he'd give her a clue to his musings.

"Yup, it should peak day after tomorrow, I think. But he's really freaked and was talking about getting some kind of weapon, like a bat or maybe a gun or something. Fuck, I don't even know if he can use a gun."

"If he doesn't know how to use one properly, a gun would just be more dangerous to him." James said calmly, and Elizabeth was grateful for the effort in rationality.

"Yeah, I suggested a taser, too, but they can be kinda unwieldy."

"Then if he is going to arm himself, he should find something heavy, like steel or wrought iron, like one of them old fireplace pokers. A bat might not cut it; too easy to break and splinter, and the aluminum ones will crumple like paper." The advice was given as a matter of fact, and Elizabeth found she couldn't fault the logic; she'd felt wary of the idea when Ed had told her to begin with.

"That's... a good call. It would keep him out of arm's reach better than a knife would, too. I'll definitely pass that along. Any other advice or worldly wisdom?" Her question was only partially sarcastic on delivery, but Elizabeth figured that James knew by now that she was taking him seriously.

"Sort of, but only because I'm a bit of a superstitious old fart," James spoke mildly hesitantly, as though prepared that she'd reject what he'd say next. "It's a little out there."

"Lay it on me, I'm pretty open-minded, and a little other-worldly help couldn't hurt, if only for my sake of mind." She smiled blandly and ordered another round for the two of them.

"If you're sure, because I might have an idea about what could be stalking your brother, but I can't go and verify it in time, but... well. There's old wives' tales about laying salt down across doors and windows, something about it being pure." James kept his eyes firmly on his bottle as Elizabeth peered at him with wary curiosity.

"How do you know this?"

"Spent some time, long, long ago, with a... pagan enthusiast, I guess you'd call him, some kind of hoodoo soothsayer. All sorts of superstitious knowledge and know-how, but I'll damned if some of that stuff seemed to work. Silver's dead useful too, was once told it burns against certain kinds of... evil, I guess you could call it. Look, I know I'm starting to sound a little crazy here..."

"No, it's fine. Ed and I... well, we've seen our fair share of weird and like to keep an open mind, like I said. There's a lot of reasons why superstitions and old stories like that have lasted this long throughout the ages."

"Fair point. I hope I've been of some help to you."

Her smile was warm as she reached over to clink her beer to his in a acknowledging salute. "You have, even with the hoodoo folk magic talk."

James laughed at her playful tone, the sound like whiskey over gravel. "Yeah, thanks for indulging an old man. You should finish your drink and head on home."

Elizabeth grinned but obliged her friend by sculling the rest of her beer and pulling out her wallet to pay her tab. "Sure thing; I should probably text Ed before I go to bed anyway. Have yourself a good night, James."

"You as well, Miss Elizabeth."


End file.
